


Golden Opportunities

by Crysania, Ethereal_Wishes, RosexKnight, RumbelleEvents, wanderinwinter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, FINISH THIS 2018, Finish this, GROUP RED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 00:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Wishes/pseuds/Ethereal_Wishes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosexKnight/pseuds/RosexKnight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumbelleEvents/pseuds/RumbelleEvents, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderinwinter/pseuds/wanderinwinter
Summary: Belle finds herself in a spot of bad luck as a storm strands her in an airport. It's not all bad, though, especially with the handsome business man that she's stuck with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ALL FICS RATED M FOR SAFETY.
> 
> Chapter writer: @ethereal-wishes  
> PROMPT: AIRPLANE

Belle French glanced down at her chipped, midnight-blue nail polish. She almost couldn't believe her bout of misfortune. She'd flown all the way to Boston – two days before Christmas – for the opportunity of a lifetime – a chance to work for one of the most notorious publishing houses in existence: Goldskin Foundation. Finding a vacant flight so close to the holidays had been expensive and cumbersome, but she'd managed it, even made it to her interview on time.

Mallory Dragna had been her interviewer’s name – a posh woman with honey blonde hair and captivating verdant irises. She'd been settled behind a mahogany desk, calculating her every move, appearing as if she'd devour her if given the chance. Belle remembered the weight which settled on her chest as the other woman fired off a series of complicated questions. The interviewer seemed pleased with her answers, promising they'd be in touch after the holidays.

Belle planned to catch a flight back to Seattle – her current home. Her mother and father were already there, had flown all the way from Australia just to spend Christmas with her. She'd recently graduated with her Master's Degree in journalism and anticipated to move from her tiny flat to a bigger city with bustling possibilities. When Goldskin had contacted her about an interview, she'd been floored. An opportunity like this only came once in a lifetime.

She felt proud of herself for doing well on her interview, and had even began searching online for affordable apartments in the area. Finding a straight flight to Boston and back to Seattle had been a blessing. But her flight had been canceled last minute because of an unanticipated snowstorm, which had unexpectedly brewed up. She would be spending her night at the airport until her flight could be rescheduled, but the airline couldn't tell her when. She mumbled an expletive under her breath as she rummaged through her purse for a stick of gum. She sat in a vacant chair, near her gate, unaware another individual had settled down beside her. She mentally celebrated the small victory when she spied the Doublemint wrapper peeking behind her wallet. She unwrapped the gum, popping it in her mouth.

Suddenly, her eyes landed on the stranger seated next to her. He sported a Dolce and Gabbana, gray suit. His neatly trimmed hair put his pixie ears on display, and she couldn't help but admire his aquiline nose. He had to be close to fifty, she surmised. Belle couldn't seem to take her eyes off of him, and he soon noticed. Soulful, sable eyes locked with azure, and the earth titled on its axis.

A small smile crinkled the age lines along his face, and Belle felt her heart slam into her ribcage when she realized the smile was meant for her. "Lovely weather we're having, eh?" he jested, his accent thick and Scottish.

"Yeah. My parents came to visit from out of the country and it looks like I'm not going to make it home in time for the holidays," she spilled, feeling foolish for being so forthcoming with private information.

The man's smile faded, and he nodded slightly – the age lines creasing his handsome face, revealing he was in the same predicament. He, too, was trying to make it home for the holidays. Her heart plummeted as she imagined a lover waiting for him on the other side of the country. She shuffled her feet uncomfortably, averting her gaze when there was a pregnant pause. Belle assumed their conversation, which had briefly flickered, had completely extinguished. She reached inside her handbag for some ear buds when the nameless stranger spoke again.

"It looks like we're going to be here all night, wanna grab a cup of coffee?" he inquired in his velvety brogue.

Belle blinked owlishly, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. "Pardon?"

He flushed scarlet. "I apologize for being so forward. I suppose an exchange of names is appropriate before one decides to ask someone for coffee."

Belle's lips stretched into a wide smile before she erupted into peals of laughter. She clasped her hand over her mouth, stifling her reaction. "I'm so sorry, forgive me for my uncanny reaction. I'm Belle French," she introduced herself, holding out her hand.

The stranger grinned – his smile causing her heart to melt in the process. "Simon Gold," he replied, shaking her hand, casually. When Simon's hand connected with hers, she felt a surge of electricity spiral through her. It eclipsed her senses, making her unsteady on her feet.

Simon caught her as she stumbled forward. "Are you alright!?" he inquired, concerned.

Belle nodded briskly, feeling foolish for allowing this stranger to make her swoon like a lovesick school girl. "I'm fine, I suppose a bit of caffeine would pep me up. How about that coffee?"

Simon's eyes lit up like Christmas lights at her suggestion. "This airport has a twenty four hour coffee bar," he added, extending his arm to her. Belle reluctantly accepted it, allowing him to lead her towards the mostly empty cafe. He ordered himself a black coffee with a shot of espresso, and she settled on a vanilla cappuccino.

Belle pulled out her wallet to pay, and he gently pushed her arm away – paying for her coffee instead. "You didn't have to do that," she hesitated as he placed his remaining change in the tip jar.

"You're gracing an old man with your company; the least I can do is buy you coffee." Simon winked.

Heat bloomed to her cheeks as he gestured to a vacant table. She sat down, modestly crossing her legs. He took a long sip of his brew, intently analyzing her with his soulful eyes. "So, I'm assuming you hail from Seattle. What brings you to Boston, Belle?" he inquired, tilting his head to the side – studying her elegant features.

Belle sorted through her thoughts, deciding there would be no harm in divulging info about her promising interview. It wasn't as if she would ever see, Simon, again. The thought of never speaking to someone she'd barely known for half and hour sent a wave of forlornness coursing through her. Never seeing him again made her ache deeply within the very depths of her soul.

"I recently graduated with my master's degree in journalism, and I flew to Boston because I had an interview with Goldskin Foundation," she dispelled, twirling a chestnut ringlet around her pointer finger, nervously.

Something unreadable flickered across Simon's gaze, and she noted how his body language became rigid from her revelation. "And how did you feel about your interview?" he probed, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup.

"Well. They told me they'd be in touch after the holidays," she supplied casually, draining the contents of her cup.

"Excellent, I hope that pans out well for you," he added, brushing a nonexistent piece of lint from his pristine suit.

Startled by his unusual behavior, Belle decided to change the subject. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you flying to Seattle?"

"My son and his wife live there; they just had their first child last year, and I've finally found time in my busy schedule to fly out and meet my grandson for the first time," he stated – a look of fondness permeating his features.

"That's wonderful! My Parents have flown in from Australia. They're already at my apartment. I haven't seen them in close to two years. Hopefully I'll make it home in time for Christmas." Belle sighed despondently, feeling the weight of her cumbersome predicament.

"Aye, don't fret, this storm will surely clear up, and we'll both be on the next flight out of here," he crooned, his brogue soothing her frazzled nerves.

"Thank you, Simon." She reached out to pat his hand. He returned the gesture, his digits caressing her delicate wrist. When he realized what he'd done, he froze.

"I'm sorry, Belle," he apologized, wrenching his hand away as if he'd been burned. Belle secretly missed the contact, placing her hand in her lap, instinctively brushing her fingertips over the place he'd touched.

"It's no matter," she stammered, worrying her lower lip as she racked her brain for something else to say.

He cleared his throat uncouthly. "We should probably head back to our gate and see if they've rescheduled our flight."

"Yes, of course." She nodded amicably, standing to her feet and following him back to their gate. She sat in her chair, observing him as he sauntered to the desk to speak with an attendant. Her palms dampened with perspiration as he turned back around, heading in her direction. His eyes were bright and hopeful which made her believe he'd just received good news.

"I was told our flight will depart at six A.M. Apparently the storm has tapered off," he revealed.

"Excellent, hopefully there will be no further delays," Belle replied, feeling the same sick feeling settling in her stomach when she'd imagined them never speaking again after his departure.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that. My weather app confirms it's breaking up," he added, chuckling. Belle noted how his eyes hadn't lit up, and she wondered if he'd felt it, too – the unyielding ache of being forever parted after this one brief encounter. She could only hope fate had other plans for them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter writer: rosexknight  
> PROMPT: SEX

For an agonizing moment, he didn’t move, and Belle tried not to look too hopeful as she fidgeted in her chair. She felt ridiculous like a schoolgirl who finally had some alone time with her crush. What is it about this Simon Gold that drew her to him so? That made electricity dance over her skin when they touched? She cleared her throat to dispel the silence that had blanketed them, but it was broken before she could speak by the chiming of her phone.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” Belle said immediately as she dug through her bag for her cellphone. “It’s probably mom or dad.”

Simon nodded vaguely. “I’m sure they’re worried.”

“You have no idea.” Belle laughed. Her eyes lingered on him apologetically as she swiped to answer the call. “Hey dad.”

“The news said it’s letting up.”

Belle rolled her eyes. That was her father, straightforward as ever. In the background she could hear her mother scolding him, which only made her smile.

“It is. My flight was rescheduled to six in the morning.”

“I see.”

There was a rustle on the other end of the phone, and she heard her father repeat the new information to her mother. She gave a glance to Simon. He’d stepped away, and seemed to be making an effort not to look at her. Far enough to give her some privacy on the phone but hopefully not far enough to cut ties with her completely for the night. An odd sort of warmth bloomed in Belle’s chest not for the first time since meeting him. She wondered if whatever lover he had waiting for him found him as oddly attractive. There was an air about him that begged to be known. What was his story with his business-like clothes even for a family visit? And why bother sticking around with her if not for the same reasons she wanted him there?

Her father’s voice cut through her odd dreamy haze, and she blinked as she realized in her staring she’d completely missed what he’d said.

“Say again dad?”

“You’re not staying up all night are you?”

“I did just have coffee.”

Her dad made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. Belle could practically see the crinkle in his brow. “You can’t find a hotel?”

“I don’t know if there are any hotels around here.”

“There’s a transit hotel.”

Belle’s eyes instantly went to Simon. His cheeks flared, and he suddenly looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But this airport does have a transit hotel.”

Belle nodded, giving him a smile. “That’s perfect then.”

Simon returned her smile, and she noticed how his eyes went alight and crinkled at the corners. Once again, however, her father interrupted whatever string of a moment was weaving between them.

“Who was that?”

Her father didn’t seem happy, but that was to be expected she supposed. “Someone I met. He’s in the same predicament I am.”

Her father didn’t answer right away, but oddly the normally oppressing silence didn’t phase her. Finally he only sighed. “Alright. We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Sounds good, dad. Love you. Tell mom.”

“I will. Be good.”

Belle stood as the call ended. Simon tilted his head at her. “Is everything alright, dearie?”

“Yeah. Dad’s just worried. He can be a little overbearing.” She gave a sheepish smile.

Simon chuckled. “Most fathers are.”

“So there’s a hotel?”

“Yes. It’s small but quite nice. Ah, this way. I was planning on booking a room myself.”

“Excellent. It’ll certainly be nice not to have to sit up all night. Thank you. I’m not familiar with the area yet.”

“You’ll have to change that if you get that job.”

Belle felt herself smiling despite his flat tone. “I suppose you’re right.”

He led her easily through the airport. He hasn’t offered her his arm, she noted, and tried to ignore the completely irrational pang in her chest due to it. They walked in relative silence, with Belle trying not to stare too much at his back as they did. Were his shoulders straight because of the suit or naturally? He seemed used to leading, glancing back and over at her every now and again. Belle shook her head, deciding it might be better to focus on something besides the man that seemed to have entranced her. Her eyes drifted around, noting they weren’t the only two out of the crowd that had opted for coffee. Many looked as if they were settling for a long night.

“Seems we’re not the only ones affected by the weather…” Belle stated, her voice trailing off.

“Mother nature can be cruel at times.” Simon agreed casually. “I suppose nature has its reasons, though.”

She nodded. “I hope everyone’s able to stay warm tonight.”

Simon hummed, and Belle couldn’t read anything about his tone or gesture. She frowned, a sudden thought occurring to her. She’d been so worried about never seeing him again after tonight, but in reality the time with her might only be for the next few moments. He’d go to his room. She’d go to her own, and they would bid each other good night then and there. Something in Belle simply could not let that happen. She opened her mouth, about to suggest coffee or a bite to eat or anything that could potentially lead into an hour-long conversation.

“Ah, Simon?”

“Here we are.”

Belle blinked. They had indeed entered the small lobby of the transit hotel that was connected to the airport. Why was she so distracted? Was she just more tired than she thought? No. The thought of not seeing him after tonight was just too unsettling and yet she had no idea why.

“I suppose we should look into rooms.”

His tone was pleasant, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Niether did the tired smile of the receptionist as they approached.

“One room?” She asked.

“Two.” Simon answered, his tone flat. Almost disappointed if Belle allowed herself to dwell on it.

The receptionist’s face immediately fell “I’m so sorry sir. We only have one more room available tonight.”

Belle’s eyes widened, and Simon’s adams apple bobbed. The two of them exchanged a look. An odd sort of look that was hopeful and terrified all at once. One room? Meaning if they wanted a room they’d have to hare? Meaning they’d be stuck with each other all night?

Belle couldn’t tell if that was a blessing at all or if fate was having a go at her, teasing her for being so childish in the first place. Still, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like the idea at least a little bit. Her father would certainly disapprove.

“You’re certain?” Simon asked, and Belle couldn’t tell if that was hope or fear in his voice.

“Well there was another room, but it has a reservation already and we haven’t gotten word about his plane coming in or if it was delayed yet…” Simon sighed, raking his hand through his hair. He was visibly agitated, but perhaps the problem was that neither were against the idea of sharing a room. The receptionist continued “We could get you both in the one room for now and ring you if the other becomes available.”

“Aye that’ll do.” Simon said with a sigh.

He reached for his card before Belle could even touch hers, and suddenly the color drained from his face.

“Ah...I’m sorry, Belle I didn’t mean to presume. Is this okay? If not I can find a chair out here…”

Belle shook her head, stepping closer, her arm almost brushing his. “No, this is fine. I don’t mind, truly.”

She kicked herself to how eager she sounded to herself. It was ridiculous how completely hung up on this man she already was. But something in her simply had to know him and she has no clue why.

“Alright.”Simon visibly relaxed, his eyes warming again.

His cheeks were a soft shade of pink as he paid for the room, dismissing Belle when she offered to pay for half. Belle shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the receptionist handed them their room key. He was a gentleman, at the very least, and this time when he turned to walk with her to their room, he offered his arm.

“I’m sorry about this, Belle. I know that you most likely weren’t intent on spending your night in a hotel room with this old man.”

Belle swallowed, ignoring the way her body heated when she touched his arm or how perfectly their strides were together as they walked or how her arm fit perfectly in his.

She really was too nervous about this.

“It’s fine. Getting this flight at all was such luck a bit of bad luck had to balance it out.” She paled. “Not that spending more time with you tonight is bad luck.”

Simon chuckled as they reached their room. “I’m glad for that then.”

The card clicked open the door, and the two stepped into the room. It was indeed rather small, a side effect of the limited airport space, Belle assumed. But there were two beds, separated by a single nightstand. The room was neat and tidy and clean.

Another weight fell over them, heavy with every little implication this situation held.

Simon cleared his throat. “I suppose this is a bit awkward.”

“Yeah.” Belle agreed vaguely, thinking perhaps it wasn’t as awkward as it should have been.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter writer: @winterswanderlust
> 
> PROMPT: TODDLER

She could feel the darkness wrapped around her, heavy and secure. Nearly as secure at the white sheets that she pulled from the tight tuck underneath the mattress. They were a little itchy, the pillow a little lumpy, and the mattress was just a touch too stiff to be comfortable.

Belle glanced at the clock on the table, then rolled over to her back, staring at the void that was the ceiling above her. It was 1:16, and she was wide awake.

Maybe it was the time difference. Flying across three time zones could give anyone jet lag, and surely the single day she’d spent in the city hadn’t been enough to get over it.

She was anxious about the flight, too. The storm could kick up again, stranding her here even longer; weather was hardly stable, no matter what the airline or people on TV said.

...Or handsome older men with phone apps. Maybe Belle was a little nervous about that too, because she was sharing a hotel room with a man she didn’t know but desperately wanted to.

Getting ready for bed had been an awkward endeavor. Belle, having only been in Boston for a single night, was lucky enough to at least have an extra pair of clothes with her, plus her toothbrush. What with his trip being much longer than Belle’s mad dash across the country, Simon had checked a bag and inside it all of his essentials. His carry-on contained only his computer and a spare book.

He had hardly looked at her as they got ready for bed; he’d given her the bathroom first and by the time she had come out, his grey suit was hanging like a shadow in the small closet by the door, shoes tucked underneath. The man himself was already in bed, covers pulled up to his chin.

Instead of disappearing for his turn at his own nightly routine (as abbreviated as it would have to be), he’d instead stared at the TV, as if the black, empty screen was interesting in any way.

Gone was the easy small talk, the confident smiles and winks. She had said goodnight, turned off her lamp. Belle had waited for sleep to come.

That was hours ago; now there was only the quiet black of the room. It made her mind wander to odd places.

Was he wearing an undershirt? She tried not to think about how it would feel to crawl into bed beside him; to peel off their layers and feel the heat of his skin as it pressed against hers. He was just her size, his sharp chin the perfect slant. She could invision how well she’d fit against his chest, her nose rubbing at his elegant neck. They’d fit together like heartbeats, entwined like the teeth of a zipper, tight and warm.

“...Simon?” she murmured, the darkness still like the surface of a lake.

There was a pause, her voice sinking, sinking, sinking. She desperately tried not to wonder if he was wearing boxers or briefs. Then—

“Yes?”

“I thought you’d be asleep by now.” Belle bit her lip, worried. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

The quiet that followed felt cautious, like he was deciding whether or not to lie.

“No,” he finally admitted. “No, you didn’t.”

She released a breath, relieved. “I can’t sleep,” she said. Obvious, but she had to say something. She wanted as much time with this man as she could get, and she felt selfish enough, there, in the dark, to keep him awake and with her.

“Aye,” he huffed. “It probably wasn’t my best decision, inviting you to coffee so late in to the evening.” His covers rustled as he turned over to face her.

She giggled. “Yeah the caffeine probably isn’t helping with matters.”

“That makes it sound like there’s something on your mind,” Simon said carefully. His voice was a ripple, soothing and constant.

_I want to sink into you like a rock at the bottom of the ocean._

Belle floundered. “You said you had a new grandchild?” she blurted. “A grandson, yes?”

There was a pause. “Yes. That’s right. He just turned one last month.” The fondness was back, the love and adoration for a child he didn’t yet know.

“You mentioned finally having time to meet him. It must be difficult,” she said softly. “Being so far away.”

“That’s by design, my dear,” Simon said, voice low.

“Oh?”

The rustle of sheets again; she heard him inhale, exhale.

Belle turned over, facing him in the darkness. She wanted to reach out a hand, offer her support. She waited.

“My son…things were, ah, strained.” Another long, heavy sigh. “It was hard, when he was young. His mother left, you see. She left me, but wanted to keep him. I don’t know why. She wasn’t much interested in motherhood.”

“How old was he?”

“He was seven when we divorced,” his voice was clipped, like skipping stones. “It was easy, at first. I had just opened my own business. I had investors, I had loans. I had so much work to do, and she moved down to Maine. My boy was close enough to see on the weekends, and every weekend I could, I’d drive down to see them.”

He paused. Belle could guess why. “Then it stopped being easy.”

“Aye,” he agreed softly. “My investors wanted results, my business plan had to evolve. Milah moved south, down the coast. The further Bae got away from me, the more I called, the less I drove. They ended up in North Carolina. I tried to make it for Christmas, but. Well.” Simon laughed without humor. “The next year, they were in Florida. Tallahassee, I believe.”

Belle again thought about climbing into bed with him, but not for her own gratification, her own curiosity. She wanted to give him a hug, tell him everything was going to be okay.

“How old was he by then?”

“Oh, a teenager. Certainly old enough to feel abandoned and forgotten by his father. He…” Belle heard him swallow, his voice tight and strained. “He stopped talking to me. I lost contact. Buried myself in the company. They moved again, and I couldn’t guess where.”

Again, the rustle of the sheets. Had he sat up? Belle strained her eyes, but couldn’t tell.

“I kept telling myself,” he said, voice low and water logged, “that everything I did was for him. All the hours I spent with my company, expanding and growing an empire, was so I could give him something. But lo and behold, I turn around and suddenly had no son to give it all too.”

“Suddenly,” Belle murmured.

She thought about what it must have been like for both of them, the miles and miles of road between them, the gap widening as the years go by. How awful, to look at your father and see a stranger. How heartbreaking, to look at your boy and see a man you don’t recognize.

Simon chuckled, the sound wet and sad. “Don’t you know? Children grow in the blink of an eye. If nothing else, I hope Bae has learned from my mistakes. We don’t need history repeating itself.”

Belle gave a happy hum. “That’s right—you’re meeting your grandson. As soon as tomorrow.”

“Yes,” he gave a watery chuckle. “Yes, my son—he ended up out west, he met a girl, settled down, and he—he forgave me.”

Belle could sense there was more there, a story of immeasurable heartache and relief. Perhaps one day, she could hear it. “I’m glad you’re getting a second chance.”

The silence settled in around them again. Belle decided Simon was wearing boxers. Expensive, like his suit. She wondered what color they were. She wondered if she’d get to see them when they got ready in the morning.

“... Belle?”

“Hmm?” She buried her face in her pillow, thankful he couldn’t see her red face.

“I didn’t mean to saddle you with all that. You should be trying to sleep, not listening to an old man’s mistakes.”

“I like listening to you talk,” she said, voice muffled.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. We have an early flight. We should...we should try to sleep.”

“We’re lucky, you know,” Belle said, stifling a yawn.

“How’s that?”

“With the time difference, we’ll be getting into Seattle mid morning. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up on sleep then.”

He snorted. “I intend to be chasing after a toddler, not napping.”

“You can nap together.” She hardly knew what she was saying anymore. Belle was sinking into the mattress, her limbs anchors.

She let herself be lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of Simon’s laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter writer: @spottytonguedog
> 
> PROMPT: COFFEE

With morning came the inevitable awkwardness. She could see the dark circles under Simon’s eyes as he waved her to the bathroom, the same dark circles she saw under hers in the bathroom mirror. Their midnight conversation came back to her in a rush and a strange feeling was bubbling just under the surface, emotions she didn’t really want to evaluate too much for fear they’d overwhelm her.

She stepped out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed, if not any more awake than when she went in. Splashing cold water on her face, doing a quick scrub down, was not really a good start to the day, but it would have to do for now.

“Breakfast?” Simon looked barely more awake than she did, and she felt bad about the rumpled suit that he was forced to wear again. It was a gorgeous suit, really, perfectly tailored to his trim form and she wondered, not for the first time, how much money he really had.

“Just coffee,” she muttered. “I’m rubbish at breakfast.”

With a nod, he poured her a cup, added one packet of sweetener and two creams, and then handed it to her.

She watched him with wide eyes. “You remembered…”

He glanced down at the paper cup she was holding. “Yeah…I guess I did.”  There was a rueful grin on his face as he turned away and she couldn’t quite help the smile that broke out on her face. Everything might be awkward after a night alone in a hotel room with a near-stranger but at the same time, it was _perfect_.

They drank their coffee in silence before packing up their meager belongings and heading for the door. “I’ll call a shuttle then, shall I?”

“Yes, please.” Her feet were already killing her and she wasn’t even wearing her usual impractical heels. Those had been packed away in her suitcase, along with pretty much everything that was important. _Thank God for hotel toiletries_. She wasn’t the type to take them with her as any sort of souvenir. She wasn’t even the type to really _use_ them, but this time she was beyond thankful for all those tiny soaps and hair care products that hotels left for their guests.

* * *

 

They were quiet on the shuttle ride over to the airport and Belle wondered how she might be able to ask him for his number, his information, where he even _lived_. She knew he was waiting for the plane in Boston, but she had no idea if that was his first stop or tenth. But she…well…she wanted to know and that bothered her.

It wasn’t like Belle hadn’t gone on dates before, hadn’t had boyfriends before. But they had been few and far between and mostly big lugs that she really wasn’t terribly interested in. She’d dated them more for her father’s sake than her own. But _this_ man…she couldn’t explain it even if she tried. His somewhat careworn face, the way he spoke of his lost son, now found, and his grandson, as if they were the most precious things in the entire world.

And a part of her _wants_ that, wants to be cherished and made to feel beautiful and amazing and be the sole focus of all of someone’s passion.

She couldn’t say she’d ever really wanted that before.

Arriving back at the airport, she sighed at the thought of having to face the long security line yet again. Once was enough, more than enough, really. The last time they’d taken her in for “further screening” and she was sure that it was because of her Australian passport and her Visa. She was still not an American citizen and that always flagged her when she walked through the gates in an American airport.

If the job weren’t so damned important to her, she would _never_ have flown all the way across the country just for an interview.

Simon hesitated as they approached the line and she watched as his eyes glanced at the _other_ line. The one for frequent fliers, for people already on the “we’re too important to go through your boring little security line” list. She wasn’t one of those people. Clearly Simon, in his expensively tailored suit, was one of them.

He probably flew First Class.

No.

She _knew_ he flew First Class. There was no _probably_ about it. He had “First Class” written all over him. _He’s out of your league, Belle_.

“Go ahead,” she said quietly.

He turned to her, blinked a couple times. “Pardon?”

“I know you have one of those special passes.” She spoke with a small smile, trying not to sound annoyed or, worse, jealous. Even though a part of her _was_ , quite frankly.

He met her eyes for a moment, looked at the other line, and then finally squared his shoulders. “No, I’m fine. I’ll stay here.”

She couldn’t help the little giddy feeling that flowed through her at that. Inconveniencing himself to stay at her side? Well, maybe he wasn’t quite as out of her league as she feared.

* * *

 

She had passed by Simon on her way to her seat. Coach, of course. It wasn’t like she had the money to afford First Class like he did. He had looked almost apologetic sitting up there, glancing up at her and giving her a shy wave as she had passed. She had smiled at him, not sure what else she could have really done at that moment, and had made her way back to her seat.

She hated flying.

She always had.

It wasn’t that there wasn’t something exciting about leaving the ground, but it was just that it was this giant hulking thing of _metal_ that shouldn’t have been able to get a foot off the ground, much less thousands of feet. Flying was definitely not for her and so she gripped the armrest a little harder than she meant to and gave an apologetic glance at the woman seated next to her.

No sooner were they in the air than one of the flight attendants was at her side. “Miss French?”

“I’m sorry.” The words came tumbling out of her mouth. “It’s just that I get nervous. I…”

The woman cocked her head slightly to the side and Belle stopped talking. “No, Miss. Your arrangements have been upgraded.”

“Upgraded?”

“If you’ll gather your things and come with me?” She didn’t give Belle a chance to question or argue, simply turned on her heel and started up the aisle.

Back toward the front.

Back toward first class.

She could feel the stares of the other passengers as she quickly grabbed her purse and carryon from up above. The person she had been sitting next to just shrugged when she glanced at her. Another man in the row in front of her turned to glare as she walked past. She felt a little embarrassed, but at the same time, she couldn’t feel _too_ bad.

When she stepped through the curtain and the flight attendant waved her to her new seat, Simon turned to look at her, a somewhat sheepish look on his face. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to do that,” she started to say, but took her seat anyway.

“I couldn’t just leave you back there.”

“Did you pay for this?”

He hesitated at that. “I might have?”

She just shook her head. “Why?”

“Is it so bad that I wanted to have you up here with me?” There was a gentleness to the soft smile he offered her and she felt it warm her down to her toes. “Besides, I needed to apologize.” At the confused look she gave him, he went on. “For last night? I didn’t mean to unburden so much on you.”

She watched him for a moment longer and then reached out, put her hand over his. The electric spark hit her like a freight train and she almost gasped. Looking up, meeting Simon’s eyes, told her he felt it too. “You…” she started to say, cleared her throat. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

He almost cut her off, but she held up a hand. “Your son is important to you. And your grandson, of course. I…Well, I felt honored that you could tell me about them.”

He turned his hand over then and laced his fingers with hers. She gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you,” he finally managed to say. They stayed like that for a time and Belle found she really liked the feel of his hand, warm and firm, in hers. It felt…right…somehow.

“So tell me about that job you interviewed for,” he said.

“Are you sure you really want to hear about that?”

He gave her a look she couldn’t quite interpret and finally nodded. “Of course. You had to listen to me blather on about my family issues, so come on. Tell me about the job.”

“Ok. It’s just…perfect. Absolutely perfect. I’d be one of the editors for this amazing publishing house. The Goldskin Foundation? Maybe you’ve heard of them. They publish some of the most amazing books. Best sellers, all of them. I’d be editing in their Fairytale division and maybe...” She paused there and Simon turned to look at her.

“Go on.”

“It’s silly, I know, but I’ve always dreamed of being a writer. Maybe if I’m there already, working for them. Maybe I’d have a better chance of being seen and heard. It might just be the leg up I need to be a published author someday.”

“It’s a stepping stone.”

“Exactly. I feel like it gets my foot in the door. Like I can run with the big dogs. And maybe if I’m a good enough editor and work hard enough, someone there will consider reading my work. Someday.” She offered up the last with a rueful grin.

“I think you’ll do it,” His voice was quiet, but resolute. “Something tells me that you’re not one to give up.”

“I’m not.” She realized the words sounded perhaps harsher than she intended. “I mean, I never want to be one of those people, giving up on the things that make me _me_.”

Simon said nothing for a moment and then nodded. “Don’t ever give up, Belle. You don’t want to end up a sad old man like me.”

She was about to respond when another one of the flight attendants approached their seats. “Can I interest you in a beverage?”

Simon let go of her hand almost as soon as he saw the man leaning over them and she felt bereft at the loss of contact. She really didn’t understand all of her reactions. It was like she knew him, somehow, from somewhere. Belle wasn’t the type to connect with someone like this, usually preferring her books and writing to real people. It had been a long time since she had felt _something_ for someone. But this man, there was just something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on.

The further their plane took them to Seattle, to _home_ , the more her heart felt heavy at the thought of parting ways. He could live anywhere, she realized. He hadn’t told her he was from Boston, was just getting on the plane there. Had he come from somewhere else? Was he even living in the States? It was a sobering thought and a worrying one.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever see him past this flight.

* * *

 

The rest of the flight had passed uneventfully. They’d alternately chatted and dozed a little. Belle didn’t _want_ to, of course, wanted instead to find out everything she could about this man, but the flight was exhausting and long and just seemed even more so after their night at the hotel.

When they arrive at the airport, Simon waved her on ahead of him and she gathered up the few things she had and headed out toward the baggage claim area. Her car was in the long term parking lot, sitting somewhere on the outskirts of the airport.

She held back just a bit, coming to walk alongside Simon as he caught up to her, looping an arm through his. He seemed surprised for a moment but then continued forward, smile on his face.

 _It feels right_.

Their bags came flying around fairly quickly and she was thankful for that at least. She had had the worst feeling that it would be lost somewhere between the cancellation and the new flight and the plane finally leaving. But there it was, along with Simon’s. They both grabbed their bags at almost the same time and Belle laughed at the way they seemed to move in sync.

And then that was it. They were out of the airport and standing in the damp Seattle air. Simon raised his hand to hail a cab and Belle felt her throat almost close up.

 _Say something_ …

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride to your son’s place?”

The cab pulled up and Simon stepped toward it, but not before turning back to her. “I’d love to, Belle. Really I would. But you need to get to your family. And it’s a half hour drive away from here. I’ll be fine with the cab.”

He started to turn away. She rushed forward at the same moment he turned back to her and they collided. His hands came up to steady her and she looked up at him, not too far up, he wasn’t much taller than her after all, and _God_ she realized she wanted to kiss him.

His eyes trailed down to her lips for just a moment before he suddenly seemed to shake himself and step back, releasing her.

_This is it._

_I’ll never see him again_.

Simon reached into his wallet and came out with a business card. “Belle,” he started to say, cleared his throat. “When you get that job in Boston…come look me up. Please?” He handed her the card and as she looked down, he stepped away, the door to the cab shutting between them.

The words on the card started to blur, but then it all came together in sharp clarity.

 _Simon Gold_  
CEO, The Goldskin Foundation  
617-859-4444  
sgold@thegoldskin.com

Simon Gold. He was the CEO of the company she had interviewed at. And he knew it.

 _He knew it_.

 _When,_ she realized. Not _if_ she got the job.

And she didn’t know if she should laugh or cry or rage at the fates for throwing the CEO of the company she was likely to end up working for right into her path and making her fall half in love with him over the span of 24 hours.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter writer: @winterswanderlust
> 
> PROMPT: HEADPHONES

Belle slung her suitcase into the trunk of her car, then sank into the front seat and put her key in the ignition. Simon’s business card was still nestled between her fingers. If she weren’t so tired, she’d probably be filled with glee. Instead, she tucked it away in her purse and sat in silence for a moment—taking in all of what happened in one night—before driving out of the parking lot toward the highway.

           For starters, she was certain she had fallen in love with Simon, who also might be her future employer. There were ethical boundaries she imagined this might cross, but she’d deal with that when the time came. Her parents were waiting for her, and right now, the biggest area of concern was what they were going to do for lunch.

           When she arrived at her apartment, she opted to park on the street side with the least amount of snow piled up. Belle shuffled up the sidewalk and to the front door of the complex, thankful her bags were relatively lightweight. By the time she reached her apartment on the fourth floor, her body was weak.  _Should’ve gotten more rest_ , she thought to herself, unlocking the door.

“Belle, sweetheart,” her mother gently cooed.

“Mom, I missed you!” She gave her a warm hug, something much needed. It was hard to believe two years passed since she’d been home. Besides Ruby, she failed to make friends in Seattle. Not that she was upset; she spent more time in the local library writing than she did with people (save for her job at the coffee shop around the corner). Her heart was set on her career, so everything else ended up falling to the wayside.

“Forgetting someone?” Her dad chimed in, in his usual stoic tone. She knew he loved her, he just had a hard time vocalizing it.

“Of course not,” Belle said, smiling and giving him a hug, as well. “How was your trip?”

“Long,” he replied. “I imagine yours was the same. Did you manage to spend the night in a hotel?”

           Belle sputtered out a ‘yes.’ The last thing she wanted was to create a ruckus on Christmas Eve by admitting it was shared with a middle-aged man she’d met in the airport. She added on, “I was fortunate enough to snag the last room available.” It wasn’t like she was lying; simply leaving out the unnecessary details. She let out a sigh. “I’m just glad I get to see you both again. Let me put away my things and we can head out, okay?”

*          *          *          *

           Half a month of eagerly waiting for a phone call from Goldskin Foundation went by. Mallory said she’d get back to her after the holidays, and yet January 14 hit without a word. The days of excitement turned into frantic worrying. She felt sure she would receive the position. With how well the interview went, on top of Simon’s “when you get the job” comment, a positive call from the company seemed inevitable. Perhaps she was wrong.

           She needed a distraction after her work shift, something to keep her mind off the very fate of her future. Netflix would suffice.

           8 o’clock rolled by when her phone rang. There was no way this could be about the job, but she picked up despite not knowing the number. A shred of optimism remained.

“Hello?” she mumbled, holding back a yawn.

“Miss French,” the familiar female voice spoke. “I apologize for the late correspondence. I wish to inform you of your position as editor. You start next week on Monday, 8 am sharp. Do you have any questions?”  _Wow, she really does like to get to the point, doesn’t she?_

“Umm, no, none that I think of at the moment.” Baffled by the news, she blurted out, “thank you. Thank you so much. I can’t wait to start.” The other end went dead the second she stopped talking.  _Huh._

           Her heart fluttered with joy. The first person who crossed her mind to share the news with was Simon. She stumbled over to her purse—where she left the card ever since then—and debated whether this was a good idea as she twirled it between her fingers. He already knew about the interview; hell, he expected she would be hired on. Still, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear his voice again…

“Simon? I’m incredibly sorry for calling. I know you said to get in touch when I was in town. It’s just…I wanted to tell you I got the job.” Upon realizing she hadn’t even given her name, she nervously added, “this is Belle, by the way. Belle French.”

“Belle,” he said with a slight lilt in his voice. If she didn’t know any better, it sounded like he hoped she would have. “That’s great. I look forward to catching up. We must meet for coffee, if that’s alright?”

“Absolutely,” she said dreamily. “I would love that.”


End file.
